


sweet squadron

by Anonymous



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Army, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Enemies to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27937012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The servant is arguably the prettiest boy he’s ever seen, his skin tanner than the rest of the villagers around him, his lips pillowy and pink. Mark has a vision of himself pressing kisses against them, running his fingers through his bronze hair, but then the general orders his execution.(Alternatively, in order to save Donghyuck’s life, Mark pretends that he’s in dire need of a bed servant.)
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 277
Kudos: 670
Collections: Anonymous





	1. noble

**Author's Note:**

> first things first, thank you to my beta for being the loveliest person to ever live and taking the time out of your day to read this chapter. i love you. second, this is an "author chose not to use warnings" work. read with caution!

The surviving resistance is gathered in the courtyard.

They aren’t a large bunch, most of the villagers having surrendered the second they’d breached the gates of the city, but the handful of people that hadn’t are chained and detained, kicked down to their knees, their trousers wet with mud. Mark counts them all in his head, knowing that they are much fewer than they should be, and watches as general Choi reaches the same conclusion.

“Is that all of them?” he asks, turning to the lieutenant in charge of hunting the nobles down with a hard expression on his face. He’s a man named Johnny, ten years Mark’s senior but the closest to him in age out of all the captains, and while his posture is relaxed, the tongue darting out to wet his lips betrays his nerves.

“Yes, sir,” he answers. “We found Lord Young hiding with his servant in his chambers. We think the rest of his family escaped to the capital a few days ago.”

A muscle in General Choi’s jaw twitches as he fixes his eyes on the Lord, an old man with a kind face and smile lines, but Mark’s eyes are more drawn to the boy by his side.

He’s arguably the prettiest boy he’s ever seen, his skin tanner than the rest of the villagers around him, his lips pillowy and pink. Mark has a vision of himself pressing kisses against them, running his fingers through his bronze hair, and for a second Mark forgets to tear his eyes away, the world narrowing down to the boy and the boy alone, but then General Choi’s voice cuts through his stupor.

“Alright,” he says. “We have strict instructions to kill all the people that can pose a threat to the throne. We better kill them both.”

Mark feels his stomach lurch, the tips of his fingers turning cold, and Lord Young seems to share his sentiment because something close to distress crosses his face.

“Have mercy on my servant,” he says, and while it would have been a wonder if he had survived the winter even if they hadn’t stormed the city, Mark finds himself a bit startled by the intensity of the emotion he speaks with. Out of the few nobles he had met, most were uncaring of what happened to their servants, more concerned with saving their own skin. “He just turned twenty,” he adds. “There is no reason for him to die.”

General Choi disagrees.

“I am the one who decides who will live or die. We have no use for a Seolran servant.”

He gazes at the boy, taking in the unusually expensive clothes he is dressed in –pretty, so pretty, very unlike the clothes the rest of the servants wore— and then snorts.

“Although if you’re willing to plead for him on your knees, I’m guessing he’s great at sucking cock.”

Lord Young’s cheeks blaze with color, and Mark doesn’t know if it’s because he hit bull’s eye or because he is accused of having fucked his servant while married, that he would sully his name like that.

Seolrans treated matrimony like it was holy, much holier than Mark’s own people did, sharing their body with only one other person for the rest of their lives. To Mark it had always sounded a little bit ridiculous, widows and widowers prevented from marrying again even if their spouse died, but he knew that Seolrans viewed it differently.

“Please,” Lord Young continues despite the spots of color dancing across his complexion. “You can have all of my riches, flog me, torture me, burn me alive, but spare the boy.”

Mark’s focus continues to linger on the boy, something inside of him twisting uncomfortably, and despite never having spoken a word to him, he knows with an odd kind of certainty that he’s not going to allow anyone to hurt him.

“I could use him.”

For the first time the boy looks away from the general and straight at him, and despite not saying anything or speaking up for himself, there is nothing meek about his eyes, gaze hard even if the shape of his eyes makes him look terribly soft.

General Choi’s expression turns even more pinched at his words, but Mark isn’t surprised. It was no secret that there was no love lost between the two of them, and Mark knew that he wasn’t improving their relationship by questioning him in public.

“My present servant is eight months pregnant and has been looking for a replacement ever since we left,” Mark elaborates. It’s not quite a lie. “I could use him.”

“You could find someone else,” General Choi counters.

“I could,” Mark agrees. “But not soon enough.”

The general presses his lips together, and Mark holds his breath, making sure to make himself look nonchalant. It would do no good if the general suspected that he was speaking up to save the boy rather than because he wanted a servant, that he felt sympathy for someone who was supposed to be an enemy.

For once Mark is grateful that Lord Young remains silent, that he isn’t adding fuel to the fire.

“Alright,” the general finally says. “But if he creates problems or tries to escape, he won’t be the only one without his head. I don’t care if you’re the golden child of the army. Do you still want him?”

Had it been anything else, Mark would have said no, knowing that General Choi had been searching for a way to win control over him since they’d first met, but there was something about the boy that made the thought impossible.

“Yes,” Mark says. “He doesn’t look like he has much strength in his body to hurt me either way.”

The boy scowls, looking almost offended, but while his eyes are unyielding, Mark’s words are true. For being the Lord’s supposed lover, he sure didn’t look like he’d been taken care of. The only thing that showed the favor bestowed upon him was his clothes, but they did little to draw away from the cuts and bruises on his face, new from the battle and faded ones that spoke of past hardships.

The general nods once, and Mark exhales slowly when the boy is pulled to his feet by two soldiers and dragged towards the direction of his tent.

He doesn't get the chance to follow him until much later.

By then it’s pitch black outside, the only thing lighting the way back to his tent being the torches placed along the campsite, the guards stationed every five meters. They salute when Mark walks by, and while he doesn’t do more than nod back, he can feel their eyes on his back when he passes them, the awed whispers they try their best to mute.

He pays them no mind, swallowing drily as his tent comes into view, and wonders how he will find the boy once he enters, if he will be asleep or if a servant will already have come to collect him.

What Mark doesn’t expect is to find him still in shackles, chained to the pole in the middle of the room, the exhaustion on his face sending a stab of pain right through Mark’s chest. It changes once he notices his presence to become a glare, and Mark opens his mouth to say something to make the situation better but finds all words evading him.

The key to the chain is on the big mahogany table in the middle of the room, just out of the boy’s reach, and Mark goes to grab it, the cool metal digging into the skin of his palm, anger burning hot in the pit of his stomach.

“I didn’t think they were going to chain you up,” Mark says quietly.

The boy looks at him, and though he looks exhausted and frustrated, without a doubt heartbroken over the imminent death of the Lord, about his city being stormed by foreign soldiers, he keeps his chin raised.

“Well, they probably didn’t expect you to take the entire day getting here.”

Mark doesn’t really know what to say to that.

He unlocks the chain and has to bite his lip when he sees the red around his wrists, around his face. The boy tenses the second he is unchained, and Mark recognizes the calculative look that crosses his face.

“They’ll have you killed if you hurt me,” Mark says. “There is no use escaping either, there are guards stationed everywhere. You won’t be able to survive ten seconds.”

The boy bristles, annoyed at having his plans punctured.

“If you think I’m going to fuck you, you’re dead wrong,” he spits. “I’d rather die.”

Mark feels himself blush, because while he would love to pepper the boy with kisses, nip at his skin, he also has honor. He didn't save his life because he had any ulterior motives.

“I wasn’t trying—I was trying to save your life.”

“How noble of you.”

Mark frowns. He might never have killed someone up front, but he knew that he was the reason other people had died. His powers had seen to that.

“I’ll have a servant take you to the servants’ tent so that you can get some sleep,” Mark finally says after a few seconds of awkward silence. “I’ll call for you in the morning when I need help with my armor.”

Even now it was heavy and difficult to get off without help, but Mark didn’t want to trouble the boy further when it looked like he could use all of the rest he could get, not when his fingers were already red.

“What’s your name, by the way?” Mark asks.

The boy presses his lips together.

“Donghyuck,” he answers.

He tries to get off the ground and onto his feet but stumbles, and Mark’s body moves to support him automatically, one hand on his back, the other on his arm. He’s warm against his fingers, and Mark feels his heart skip a beat for the brief second the contact lasts before Donghyuck rights himself and pushes him away, glowering at him.

It also makes Mark realize that Donghyuck probably hadn’t had the chance to eat anything the entire day.

“Sit down,” Mark instructs, gesturing to one of the chairs by the table, and for a moment it looks like Donghyuck is going to ignore his order, but then he walks over slowly, looking like he is going to lash out at the first sign of Mark wanting to hurt him in any way.

Mark gives him the bowl of fruit and bread rolls that had been left for him in case he got hungry, and then walks over to grab some alcohol and fabric from the chest in the corner, feeling Donghyuck’s gaze on him the entire time he does.

He pours the alcohol on the clean fabric and then approaches Donghyuck hesitantly.

“This is probably going to hurt a bit,” Mark warns, lifting his fingers to Donghyuck’s face slowly, and then presses the cotton against Donghyuck’s forehead. Donghyuck winces, his face twisting in discomfort, but he doesn’t draw away, tentatively allowing Mark to clean his wounds.

Mark suspects it has more to do with self-preservation than it does with suddenly liking him, but doesn’t stop his ministrations until the wound looks clean. Then he tries his best to close the wound. It’s a clumsy attempt, Mark not as well versed in the art of healing as actual healers, but watches as Donghyuck’s cut draws together a little bit, skin patching itself up slightly.

Donghyuck’s eyes widen in realization.

“You’re a bender,” he breathes. “That’s why your tent is so big despite you being young.”

Mark hums, briefly dragging the cloth against Donghyuck’s cheeks and cleaning them even if they aren’t wounded, and then draws back.

For a second, he toys with the idea of letting Donghyuck stay in his tent, but then he disregards it.

Donghyuck would probably not like sleeping in the same bed as him either way.

“What’s your name?” Donghyuck finally asks.

“Mark.”

“You’re not a noble then.”

“No.”

Mark throws the used fabric into the fire. Someone had lit it while he’d been away, and while the fall days were still warm when the sun was out, Mark is grateful for it, a chill already beginning to seep in through the ground.

“I’ll call for a servant to escort you to your quarters,” Mark says, and doesn’t say anything when Donghyuck hides an apple under his shirt. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

* * *

The next time Mark sees Donghyuck he is dressed in clothes made for servants, much less extravagant than the ones he had previously been wearing. A thin servant’s band is wrapped around his neck, and Mark catches himself staring at it, at Donghyuck’s pretty nape. He doesn’t have the chance to give him any instructions before he is called away to a meeting, but when he returns to the tent the bed clothes have been changed and his leather armor cleaned. As the week continues it becomes something of a pattern.

When he wakes up in the morning Donghyuck is there to help him put on his armor, but with Mark usually called away to tend to something it doesn’t leave them much time alone. Most of the time Donghyuck follows him to the meetings like the rest of the personal servants, standing far enough away that he doesn’t overhear the things discussed, but while the rest of the attendants blend into the background, trained to be unnoticeable, Donghyuck stands out.

Mark finds his gaze drawn to him without him doing anything, and while he knows that Donghyuck should be the one worried about messing up, Mark is the one who feels like he is walking on egg-shells around him, straightening his back whenever he feels Donghyuck’s eyes on him.

He knows that he’s being ridiculous; any short attempts to make small talk ending quickly, but he can’t stop himself from trying, from trying to make things less awkward between the two of them. For two weeks things continue along the same lines, the army making plans and counting their losses, planning how to acquire further territory. It hadn’t been surprising that they had managed to take the Steadfast, but if they didn’t play their cards right, it would be the only win they would get. Only a few days before they had taken the Steadfast there had been news of a citadel close to the border surrendering to Seonhan, the royal son taking it back with fire and heat, turning the Seonhan campsite there to ashes.

The need for carefully crafted plans means that the battalion stays in the same place for longer than they had since they had first set out, that the army gradually begins to relax bit by bit; soldiers coming to know that there isn’t an imminent danger hanging over their heads. It’s part of the reason Mark decides to treat himself to a bath after yet another meeting stretches out longer than he expects it to.

He tells Donghyuck to go and fetch some timber, to bring some water to a boil, but when the minutes stretch by without Donghyuck returning, he begins to suspect that Donghyuck has forgotten his request.

For twenty minutes he can excuse it, for thirty minutes as well, but then he begins to feel confusion and irritation claw under his skin, wondering if Donghyuck is simply ignoring him.

It makes him feel a little bit annoyed.

Any other person would have been grateful to get their life saved, but not Donghyuck, gazed at him with distaste rather than gratitude. Mark had gone out on a limb to save him, had put his life on the line just so that general Choi wouldn’t kill a boy who didn’t look like he had ever lived, who looked like he was in dire need of help.

Mark frowns, finally deciding to go and search for Donghyuck. He expects to find him asleep on his mattress, but to his surprise his bed is empty. He asks the girl braiding her hair next to his bed if she knows where he is and frowns when she answers that he was heading off to gather a few herbs for a bath the last time she saw him.

It makes Mark worry his lower lip, set off a bit further from the camp in search for him, and it’s only the years of training himself to be extra observant that has him noticing the small movement in the woods next to the bath house.

Mark knows that something is wrong before he as much as spots Donghyuck.

Three soldiers in the same place isn’t an odd sight to see most of the time, but three soldiers deep into the woods after nightfall --all seeming to have their attention fixed on the same spot-- is. Mark approaches silently and feels himself grow cold when he finds Donghyuck cornered by two soldiers, the third one doing a horrible job at keeping watch. One of them, a short, brutish boy with a measly moustache presses Donghyuck against a tree, one of his legs in between Donghyuck’s, and Mark sees red.

It doesn’t help when Mark overhears the “there’s no reason for you to be so shy, I already know you’re no blushing virgin,” that comes out of his mouth.

Donghyuck turns his nose up towards the sky, his eyes blazing.

“Even if I am,” he responds, “your dick is probably small enough that it wouldn’t do much damage to my chastity either way.”

Something about Donghyuck sharpens, becomes more focused, his hands digging into the bark behind him, and Mark knows with certainty that he is going to hit the soldier, that Mark’s attempt at saving his life will go to waste. It was a capital offence to hurt soldiers, one that would end with his death.

Mark doesn’t wait for the blow he knows will come at the words, instead curling his hands slightly, the earth beneath the soldiers’ feet becoming soft enough for their legs to sink into. Then he makes a fist, hardening the soil, the ground as tough as cement around their hips and legs.

The soldiers let out surprised, pained yells, trying and failing to break free, but for once Mark doesn’t feel any compassion for the boys, tightening the ground until only a little bit more pressure will cause their bones to break.

Donghyuck gapes at the scene with wide eyes before he finally notices Mark, eyes flying up to meet his, and Mark gives him a short once-over to make sure that he’s alright before he momentarily ignores him.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” he asks the soldiers, barely able to recognize his own voice.

The person who had been keeping watch squirms, his face twisted in pain.

“Sir, we were just trying to have some fun. We didn’t mean anything bad by it. He’s just a Seolran, either way.”

And that’s the problem, Mark thinks.

The soldiers might have known how to behave around the regular servants, the ones who would follow them back home, but that didn’t mean that they would respect Seolrans. If three of the soldiers had thoughts relating to Donghyuck in a sexual way, it wasn’t impossible that others had too, especially now that the army was relaxing, even finding the time to take herbed baths and play homemade games.

Mark sets his jaw, skin burning.

“He’s my servant,” he says.

The one who had been pressing Donghyuck against the tree frowns.

“Yeah, but…” he begins, but Mark cuts him short.

“He’s _my_ servant.”

He sees the exact moment they understand his words, the way they all pale, losing color quicker than they had when they’d first been caught.

The only person who doesn’t seem to understand is Donghyuck.

“General, we’re so sorry, we asked him but had we known—”

“You didn’t,” Mark snaps. “You should be grateful that I found you when I did.”

The boy swallows drily, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, and Mark decides that the conversation has dragged on long enough as it is. Any longer and Donghyuck would start asking questions, and that would blow their cover before it had even truly begun to work. He would make sure to deal with the soldiers in the morning, to do what he could to make sure that they regretted as much as looking in Donghyuck’s direction.

He relaxes the ground around them.

“Leave before I change my mind.”

The boys nod, awkwardly digging their way out of the mud, and then scurry away hurriedly, leaving Mark alone with a Donghyuck who gazes at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

Mark feels all the anger in his body melt away, replaced by a bit of awkwardness, never having shown that side of himself to Donghyuck before.

“So you’re an earth bender,” Donghyuck says, and for a second Mark is caught off guard by that being the detail he chooses to focus on. He had thought he would start cursing at him or the boys, not pay attention to his element.

Mark scratches the back of his neck.

“Yes,” he responds. “I’m sorry about them.”

To Mark’s relief Donghyuck seems more annoyed than scared, kicking the ground beneath his feet like he would have much rather kicked the men who had cornered him. Mark doesn’t blame him.

“What did you mean when you said I was your servant,” he asks after a few seconds have passed. “They knew that from the start.”

Mark wets his lips, wondering how to best break the news.

“I made them think you tended to me in bed,” he finally says, holding his breath as Donghyuck stills. Sex might not be as sacred to Kwayangs as it was to Seolrans, but fucking someone else’s bed servant was still punishable by death, one of the old laws that had seen no change over the years. The soldiers trying to fuck Donghyuck when he belonged to Mark would have been reason enough for them to hang, all of the riches stripped from their bodies.

“But I’m not,” Donghyuck says, frowning.

“They don’t know that.”

Donghyuck glares.

“They do. They asked me if I had spread my legs for you yet and I said no. I don’t even sleep in your tent. It’s pretty obvious that I’m not your bed servant.”

Mark is torn between blushing and burying his face in his hands, pretty sure he is five seconds away from a heachache.

While Mark was higher in rank than all of the soldiers, he didn’t have enough power to stop them from coming after Donghyuck if it became known that he wasn’t his bed servant. The only person who had that power was the General of the army, and he wasn’t going to be doing Mark any favors anytime soon.

Mind whirling, Mark sees only one possible solution.

“Well, we’ll pretend that you are,” he suggests. “You’ll come live with me in my tent, and we’ll act like we’re intimate. It will stop more soldiers from trying to take advantage of you.”

Donghyuck stops kicking the ground beneath his feet and licks his lips, eyes darting away from Mark’s for the briefest of seconds before they return.

“Alright,” he says, straightening up, and tries to brush some dirt off of his clothes. “Do you still want a bath?”

“No,” Mark responds, blinking. He hadn't imagined that Donghyuck would agree to his suggestion so easily, that he would change the topic from one second to the next. “It’s fine.”

With nothing else to say, they make their way back to the tent slowly, Donghyuck still with his clothes ruffled, his hair a mess on top of his head. Mark looks more composed, but he still hears a few muffled snickers when they pass the guards keeping watch, knowing that they believe they had sneaked away to have a quickie in the forest.

He hands Donghyuck some of his clothes when they are alone, a pair of soft blue trousers and shirt that he’d never had the chance to wear.

“You can sleep in this if you want to,” Mark says, eyeing his dirty clothes.

Donghyuck nods, turning around and tearing his shirt over his head. Mark gets a glimpse of smooth, golden skin, but then the shirt covers his back, and Mark tears his gaze away, mouth dry.

For the first time since Donghyuck had started serving him, he realizes that he would probably not be able to call someone else to help him unlace his shirt, that doing so would only raise questions.

“Can you help me undress?” Mark asks, turning around, and while Donghyuck doesn’t reply, Mark feels hands brush against his neck a moment later, making his skin tingle. Donghyuck begins to slowly unlace his undershirt, the soft sound of the fabric rustling and Mark’s bated breath the only sounds audible in the room.

Donghyuck’s hands are a little bit cold against his lower back, and when that causes Mark to shiver, Donghyuck’s hands still for a second before he continues his action. And then Mark is shirtless, the air around him crisp against his nude skin, and while Mark has been shirtless in front of people countless of times before, being in the army quickly ridding him of any modesty, he feels a bit nervous.

Especially when he turns around and sees Donghyuck wearing his clothes, letting the rest of the battalion know that he was Mark’s, that Mark had claimed him as his own.

Mark licks his lips.

“We’ll probably have to share the bed,” he says, looking away from Donghyuck. “I swear that I’m not going to do anything against your consent, so you don’t have to worry.”

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow.

“I’m not that worried,” he says. “I’ll kill you if you do.”

Mark finds himself smiling slightly, but feels it fade when they get into the bed, his heart beating loudly in his chest, painfully aware of the distance separating the two of them. He can’t remember the last time he shared a bed with anyone, falling asleep within an arm’s reach of another person.

He doesn’t expect to fall asleep as fast as he does, but when Mark wakes in the middle of the night, the bed is empty and Donghyuck is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you liked it please let me know! (◕‿◕✿)
> 
> planning on updating it biweekly if everything goes according to plan!


	2. soldier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you once again to my beta. ilu ♡ thank you also if you liked the first chapter! ilu too!

Mark is out of the bed in a second, energy coursing through his fingertips, wondering how long Donghyuck has been gone, if he truly is as foolish as to escape in the middle of the night while the guards are the most vigilant. Worry curls inside of him, but he hasn’t taken more than a step towards the exit before he sees the small figure in front of the fire.

Donghyuck is hunched over, poking the fire with an iron tong, pretty face illuminated by the gentle flames, and Mark releases a long breath of air, muscles unclenching as his body catches up with his eyes.

“The fire died,” Donghyuck states, eyebrows raised.

Mark rubs his arm, the air a little bit colder than it had been when they’d gone to bed, and is too tired to feel as sheepish as he knows that he probably should.

“I see,” Mark responds, and only then notices the opened letters on the table in front of the fire, the map of Seolran, the notes he had written for himself in order to remember battle ideas. Mark had made sure to lock them away when Donghyuck was alone in the room, but he’d forgotten, too caught up in suddenly having to pretend that Donghyuck was his bed servant.

Donghyuck follows his gaze and stands up.

“You don’t have to worry,” Donghyuck says, hanging the tong on a small hook next to the fireplace. “I can’t read.”

Shame flares hot in Mark's stomach.

Having grown used to being surrounded by generals and nobles, by esteemed soldiers, he’d forgotten that servants and locals rarely did. Had Mark not been born with the ability to bend earth, he knows that he would have most likely been one of them.

He’d wondered occasionally if his mother had sent his older brother to school after he’d been bought by the crown, if the money his family had received had made them happier, but he doubted he would ever know.

“Were you raised in the city?” Mark asks, changing the subject in hopes of softening the silence between them, and walks over to sit down on the small couch. He still wasn’t sure why he woke up, but now that he was awake, he doubted that he would be able to fall asleep again.

Donghyuck hesitates for a split second, presumably between if he should ignore Mark’s question or answer it, but then shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “I was born south of here. I moved here a few years ago.”

Mark nods, and things are quiet for a moment before Donghyuck speaks again, the fire crackling softly in the background.

“What about you?” he asks. “Which city are you from?”

His eyes are appraising, judging him with an intensity that makes Mark want to squirm.

“My family is from a village next to the West Sea.”

Donghyuck gets an almost bitter expression on his face.

“They must be proud to have an earth bender in their family.” he murmurs, finally tearing his eyes away from him. “To have you serve the crown.”

Mark frowns.

“I guess,” he answers, but thinks about his mother’s tear-streaked face, the cramp like grip she’d had on his wrist before the soldiers had torn him from her arms. “It’s not like they had much of a choice.”

Donghyuck must hear something in his tone of voice, because he tilts his head, a strand of soft, bronze hair falling over his forehead. Mark stares at it for a second too long.

“Would you have stayed if you could have?” he asks. “If it hadn’t been against the law?”

Mark doesn’t have to think twice.

“Yes.”

Donghyuck furrows his brows, on the verge of saying something when there is the sound of rustling right outside of the tent. A second later a small horn announces someone’s arrival and an out of breath soldier enters the tent, his cheeks red from exertion, hair damp from perspiration.

Donghyuck tenses, and without meaning to, Mark finds himself angling his body to hide him from view.

“Sir, we just received news that Seolran soldiers have been spotted in the next city over. The general is calling for an emergency meeting.”

It’s only then that the soldier notices Donghyuck and the almost intimate way they’re both sitting on the couch –Donghyuck still wearing Mark’s clothes—, his eyes widening to resemble saucers.

“I’m so sorry,” he squeaks. “I didn’t know—”

“It’s fine,” Mark responds, getting out of the couch, the calm of the night withering away. “Just allow me to get dressed.”

The soldier bows, quickly leaving the tent, and Mark walks over to his dresser. He forgoes wearing his armor, instead pulling on a thick sweater and a pair of pants, turning to Donghyuck just as he is about to leave.

“You can go back to sleep,” Mark says. “I don’t know when I’ll be back but you should try to rest.”

Donghyuck’s expression is difficult to read but he doesn’t reject Mark’s suggestion, and Mark follows the soldier awkwardly waiting outside. The meeting has already commenced when he gets to the fort, General Choi looking even tenser than usual, and five minutes later Mark has gotten the rundown of the events leading up the meeting.

To his relief it turns out that there hadn’t been a big gathering of soldiers in the city of Behyun, but rather a handful, and while it isn’t an immediate cause of distress, it is still worrisome.

“Did you see the royal insignia?” Mark asks the private who had witnessed the soldiers, who had made it back to camp only a little over an hour ago.

Seolran soldiers were one thing, because while they were good in combat, they were mostly trained to compliment the royals’ abilities to bend fire. Mark was fairly confident that their battalion could take on twice their numbers in Seolran forces, but not if there was a fire bender in the army, which there was bound to be if a royal was in the city.

Unlike the abilities to bend other elements, which while tending to stick to the same people and country weren’t limited to a certain bloodline, the ability to bend fire was kept exclusively to the royal family, running pure in their blood.

For the most part, Mark considered it a good thing, fire being the element that was able to cause the most destruction. It being limited to one family meant that knowledge about how to use their ability was passed down through the generations, preventing young users from accidentally setting a city on fire. It made them knowledgeable about their element, but sadly also dangerous.

The private shakes his head.

“I don’t think so,” he says. “But then again I ran as fast as I could before I got discovered. I could have missed it.”

Mark leans back in his chair.

“Then there isn’t too much we can do. We should make sure to be extra wary, but there is no reason to panic just yet.”

Unsurprisingly, General Choi disagrees.

“We can’t afford to dawdle in case it turns out that the royal son truly is there,” he states. “We should storm the city before they have a chance to mobilize.”

Mark bites back the protest that wants to leave his lips.

The battalion might have relaxed a bit in the time they had been stationed at the Steadfast, but there were still too many soldiers that were wounded, not yet having recovered from the battle that had ensued before they had taken the city.

It was also unwise to storm a city on such a short notice, without the time to prepare or make an efficient and well-thought-out strategy. Storming the city could easily result in a blood bath on both sides, and Mark wanted to avoid that if he could.

“We don’t even know if he’s there,” Mark finally says. “Or how many soldiers there are.”

General Choi nods.

“You’re right,” he agrees. “We don’t know. There could be hundreds, thousands. They could be preparing an attack on us as we speak.”

The rest of the people in the room murmur in agreement, and this time Mark doesn’t manage to hide his frown.

“Then let me check,” Mark counters, hoping that the general will agree. “It takes less than two days to get to Behyun by horse and most Seolran soldiers have no idea what I look like. I’m also the only one that can stand a chance against the royal son if he does happen to be there.”

The general scowls, and although it is true—Mark arguably one of the most important people in the battalion, in the army as a whole—he also knows that General Choi is never going to admit it.

For a moment it looks like he is going to reject his idea, but then Johnny speaks up.

“I think it could be worth a try. They won’t have time to mobilize in two days, either way.”

General Choi shoots a warning look at Johnny before he turns to Mark, a hard glint to his eyes.

“Fine,” he says shortly. “But you leave today. If we haven’t received a raven in two days’ time we’ll storm the city.” Then he pauses and adds, “If you feel the need to bring your servant with you to get your rocks off, you better bring him back.”

For a brief moment, Mark wonders if General Choi had seen through him in the courtyard. He’d always made sure to never show any sort of emotion around him, to avoid revealing anything that could be used to control him, but if he suspected Mark of bringing Donghyuck along only to free him, he was quite obviously failing.

“Yes, sir,” Mark responds, gritting his teeth.

By the time the meeting is dismissed the sun is already beginning to rise, painting the sky a deep orange.

Mark finds Donghyuck sleeping on the small couch, face less guarded in his sleep than it is awake, and Mark observes him for a second before he walks over to drink some water. Donghyuck startles awake shortly thereafter, and Mark is torn between finding it a shame and being relieved that he didn’t have to wake him up.

“Were there soldiers?” Donghyuck asks, and Mark stops, wondering how to respond without saying too much.

Eventually he realizes that he might as well be honest, having decided that the best course of action was if Donghyuck did come with him to Behyun; Mark having an inkling that that would be the safer option. It would also be a gamble, but at least Mark would be able to keep an eye on him, and if everything went according to plan, they wouldn’t be in the city for longer than a day or two.

“Yes,” Mark answers. “We’re leaving for Behyun as soon as possible.”

The last of the sleepiness disappears from Donghyuck’s face.

“Today?”

Mark nods, already walking over to the drawers. “Do you know how to ride a horse?”

“Yes,” Donghyuck responds, and then adds, “Lord Young taught me.”

Mark pauses only for a second before he resumes rummaging through his clothes.

They pack quickly and lightly, Mark ordering one of the stable boys to prepare two horses, Donghyuck once again looking at him like he isn’t really sure what to make of him, like Mark is constructing some elaborate plan to trick him.

It’s a hard ride to Behyun, the two of them having to pass over a small river and rocky terrain, but Donghyuck truly hadn’t been lying when he’d said that he’d known how to ride. He has the right posture, the naturalness of someone who has spent a lot of time on a horse, and it takes Mark by surprise, never having imagined that Lord Young would have taught him so thoroughly. Mark doesn’t even think it would be much of a stretch to say that Donghyuck was possibly even a better equestrian than him.

They stop by a small stream to allow their horses to rest a few hours later, to drink some water, and by then the questions steadily building up in Mark’s mind are threatening to overflow.

“What was your relationship with Lord Young?” he asks, watching as Donghyuck takes a sip of his canteen, tilting his head back and revealing a tan, graceful neck.

“Curious?” he asks.

Mark shrugs.

“It’s just…most servants wouldn’t get this type of treatment. Have their lord take them riding, dress them in nice clothes.”

Mark hadn’t really believed that Donghyuck was a bed servant from the way he had reacted to being called one, but it was difficult to spot another alternative.

“Are you jealous or judgmental?” Donghyuck asks, and although his voice is deceptively sweet, Mark tastes the steel in tone.

“Neither,” Mark is quick to answer, although it isn’t true. It was difficult to smother the part of himself that didn’t really like the idea of Donghyuck getting used, of Donghyuck kissing someone else. Especially not an old lord. “Just curious.”

Donghyuck gets the same look in his downturned eyes that Mark has seen several times before, the look that makes Mark feel almost a little self-conscious, like he’s a riddle Donghyuck can’t really solve.

“You know, I still don’t really know if you’re only pretending to be nice or if you’re truly not as horrible as the rest of the Kwayang soldiers I’ve met.”

Mark frowns, not sure if he should be offended or not.

“I’m not pretending,” he says.

“Everyone’s pretending,” Donghyuck responds. “And he railed me every night. Had a very pleasant dick.”

Mark chokes, water spewing from his nose, and when he looks up there is a smirk stretching across Donghyuck’s face.

Mark isn’t sure if he’s joking or just enjoying his reaction.

“Whatever,” Mark says, feeling a blush creep over his cheeks, his ears. “We should get back to the horses.”

For the rest of the long ride, Donghyuck is in a visibly better mood.

Mark only decides that they’ve ridden for long enough when the sun begins to set and it becomes increasingly difficult to navigate in the dark. They set up camp in a small grove behind a large boulder, Mark making bark grow over the ropes tied to the horses, and if Donghyuck notices his precaution he doesn’t mention it, too busy trying to light a small fire with a few sticks.

Mark finds himself a little hesitant over the fire, knowing that it could alert others to where they were, but figures that the fire would most likely be covered by the trees either way. He also knows that the night would grow cold without a thick blanket or fabric keeping the warmth in, that he would most likely be grateful for it in the end.

He huddles as close to the fire as he dares, laying down on the ground with his arm propped under his head, but knows after a few minutes have passed that he will be lucky to sleep even the smallest amount.

Despite picking the best resting place in at least a mile’s radius, the ground is damp and cold, and Mark knows that it will likely not improve significantly from the fire despite it offering some comfort.

When Mark looks over at Donghyuck on the other side of the fire he finds that he’s very much awake as well, hiding his fingers in his armpits, trying his best to keep from shivering. His face is pinched, and Mark pauses, wondering if it would have been better if he had left him behind. It would have been dangerous, but it at least would've guaranteed that he’d be sleeping in a warm bed.

A few more minutes pass, and then Donghyuck swears under his breath and sits up.

“What are you doing?” Mark asks, watching Donghyuck get to his feet and move closer with a determined stalk.

“I won’t be able to sleep anything like this,” he complains, gritting his teeth to keep them from chattering, and Mark holds his breath as Donghyuck settles down next to him, shuffling closer until their bodies are brushing. “We need to share our body heat.”

Mark finds himself unable to answer, holding his breath as he feels Donghyuck settle against him, even closer now than he had been while they’d been sharing Mark’s bed. But Donghyuck is right, because huddling together does offer some relief, Donghyuck even going as far as to try to sling an arm across his side, huddling closer and making Mark’s heart stutter in his chest.

“Just know that I will kill you if you try to as much as make the smallest of moves on me,” Donghyuck mumbles.

“Got it,” Mark responds.

He attempts to move his arms to get more comfortable, to be able to tug Donghyuck a little bit closer, and accidentally elbows Donghyuck in the stomach. Mark expects him to ignore it, but instead he winces, letting out a muffled whimper, and Mark frowns, knowing that the light brush of his elbow against his stomach was in no way bound to hurt that much.

When he looks up, Donghyuck’s face is tense, his eyebrows drawn together.

“Are you hurt?” Mark asks, sitting up and gazing down at him in worry.

Donghyuck shakes his head, the line of his shoulders tense.

“No,” he answers, but it’s quite obviously a lie.

Mark grabs the end of Donghyuck’s shirt gently, and while Donghyuck looks at him like he’s five seconds away from biting his fingers off, he doesn’t say anything or protest when Mark begins to slowly pull the shirt up to reveal his waist.

Instead he holds his breath, seeming almost a little bit nervous as Mark stares down at the wound stretching across the left side of his stomach. It’s a strange wound, the skin red and textured, not originating from a cut or a bruise. Dried blood smears his skin, and when Donghyuck gazes at his stomach, he visibly flinches.

“It must have gotten worse from the riding,” he says, but Mark only feels cold, anger burning in his stomach, turning his vision spotty.

“Who did this to you?” Mark demands.

Donghyuck remains silent, and Mark takes a deep breath, tries to calm himself. He pours some water on the wound from his canteen, attempting to clean it as best as he can, and then puts his hands on Donghyuck’s stomach, stretching his fingers out as far as they can go. The rest of his skin is smooth under his touch, warm, but Mark forces himself to ignore it, instead closing his eyes, drawing power into his fingers, imagining the skin patching itself up slowly, the wound disappearing.

When he is finished, the wound no longer looks quite as aggravated as it once had, the red having faded to become a pale pink.

“You should have told me,” he says, letting his hands fall back into his lap.

Donghyuck simply looks at him.

“I can’t trust you,” he answers frankly. “You killed Lord Young. You killed my people.”

Mark kills the that wasn’t me before it leaves his mouth, because while he would have never killed the lord if it had been up to him, he had been part of the reason the battalion had been able to enter the city in the first place. Despite wanting his hands to remain clean, they weren’t.

“You haven’t even told me why we’re on this trip,” Donghyuck continues.

Mark hesitates for a brief second, but then lays down again next to Donghyuck again, still maintaining eye contact with him.

“It’s because General Choi wants to invade Behyun,” Mark says, watching Donghyuck’s mouth part in shock, recoiling from the words like they’d had a physical impact. “The only way he agreed to refrain from storming the city was if I made sure that someone in the royal family wasn’t there.”

Donghyuck licks his lips, swallows tensely.

“I’ve never seen them,” he says. “I’ve only heard from the Lord that they’re very handsome.”

Mark breaks the eye contact, instead turning his head to stare up at the night sky, mapping out the different constellations decorating the dark.

“I doubt it,” Mark murmurs. “I think they would be more ruthless than anything else. Fire has always terrified me.”

“Why?”

A gust of wind blows over them both, but Mark refrains from shuffling closer to Donghyuck, not wanting to accidentally brush against his wound in the middle of the night.

“My father died in one,” Mark answers. “He was stationed in Juheon. The Seolran queen lit him on fire.”

Donghyuck releases a small breath of air.

“Oh,” he says.

It isn’t quite an apology, but Mark interprets it as one.

“It’s alright,” Mark says. “I was three, I don’t really remember much about him.”

The silence following his statement stretches out for long enough that Mark suspects that Donghyuck has fallen asleep, but then there is the small rustle of his clothes as he hesitantly presses closer to Mark, leaving no space between their bodies.

Donghyuck’s voice is barely audible.

“I don’t really think fires are that scary,” he murmurs. “Sometimes they’re just warm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! if you enjoyed it please let me know! (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤


	3. guard

They are back on their horses the second the light of early morning dawns, the only thing hinting at the difficult night being the tuft of black hair that stubbornly refuses to stay down from the top of his head. Mark catches Donghyuck staring at it while he digs a loaf of bread out of the saddle bag and breaks it in half, offering one of the pieces to Donghyuck, and while Donghyuck receives it silently, he doesn’t glare at him for the first time since they had set off —even going as far as to nod after Mark tells him to complain if his wound opens again.

It’s not much of an improvement, Mark thinks, but it is _some_ , and if nothing else it makes the remaining ride to Behyun a little less frigid.

It’s late afternoon when Mark finally spots the looming castle in the distance.

By then there is already a long line waiting to be let through the defensive wall by the guards posted outside, and while Mark had expected them, they still make him unnerved. The risk of him dying if Donghyuck turned on him was small, but it would still be difficult to enter the city if it was revealed that he was there on military business, and there was also the possibility of Donghyuck getting hurt if worst came to worst, having no protective element or weapon to rely on.

Mark makes sure to relax his muscles as they finally come face to face with one of the guards, to brush some hair into his face, and wishes that they hadn’t had to leave their horses in the stable outside of the city, that he could at least be offered a few extra centimeters.

“What is your business in Behyun?” the guard asks, eyes darting between the two of them, his eyes lingering on Donghyuck for a second before his focus returns to Mark. He’s a head taller than them both, but the way he stands reveals that he prefers his right leg to his left, that he would be easy to knock off balance.

“We’re here on vacation,” Mark answers.

He tries his best to notice any rapid changes in Donghyuck’s facial expressions out of his peripheral vision, but for once he seems content to simply listen to Mark speak.

“The solstice isn’t for another two months,” the guard responds.

“We’re here to visit family.”

“You don’t look local.”

A female guard who had been busy helping an old man get through the gates glances their way, interested in their exchange, and Mark bites his lip, wondering how best to respond. It was true that he didn’t have the same sun kissed, laid-back glow that the rest of the locals did, but if he even hinted that he came from the west, he would only be met with even more suspicion.

He nearly jumps when Donghyuck slips his hand into his.

“We’re celebrating our marriage,” Donghyuck says, and while his hand feels a little thin in his, his touch is warm, uncharacteristically gentle. Mark curls his fingers around it, making sure that he isn’t accidentally crushing it, and feels his heart flutter in his chest for a reason that doesn’t entirely have to do with almost getting caught lying.

“We’re here to visit my distant relatives,” Donghyuck continues. “They live on the west side.” Donghyuck smiles, heart-shaped lips parting to reveal straight teeth, and Mark stares. “Isn’t that right, honey?”

It takes him a second to nod, but by then the guard has already relaxed.

“Welcome to Behyun,” he says, taking a step back. “You just have to pay the entrance fee and then you’ll be on your merry way.”

Some of Mark’s newfound relief disappears after he hears how much it is.

“They’ve raised it the past week,” the guard explains, noticing the pinched expression on his face, apologetic. “Troubling times, and all of that.”

“I see.”

With no other option, Mark hands the money over, but it leaves little room for them to both send a raven and afford a stay at a decent tavern. Donghyuck watches the transaction silently, keeping his hand in his until they enter the city, and while Mark’s first thought is to head in search for the raven tower, he realizes very quickly that doing so would be useless if they hadn’t looked for the royal insignia prior.

While the Steadfast had been little more than a glorified village, Behyun had an intricate constellation of streets, plenty of places where a royal banner could be found, and having no better place to start, they start at the center, keeping a careful distance from the Seolran soldiers that every now and again cross their path. Mark doubts that any regular private would recognize him, but he doesn’t want to take any chances, and despite the city not bustling with the soldiers, they are definitely more than the handful the private had said that they would be. The one relief is that for all of their exploring, walking past stands selling fruit and sweet meats, they never spot a bright red flag with a flame in the middle.

Instead the flags hanging from ropes tied to the buildings are a muted maroon, and while the lack of royal banners doesn’t entirely rule out the possibility of the royals being there, it minimizes it, and Mark knows that is about as good as it is going to get.

“No insignia,” Mark says after they’ve exhausted most of the streets in the center, ending back where they had started, in plain view of the entrance. Donghyuck had begun to slow down after they’d walked through half of the city, and while he had never complained, Mark could guess that the wound was affecting his stamina. “We should go and send the raven.”

Donghyuck nods, and though Mark knows that his opinion objectively doesn’t matter, he can’t help but be happy at his agreement.

“There are more soldiers than I imagined,” Donghyuck says, echoing his thoughts, and seems momentarily lost in his own thoughts as they begin the short stroll to the tower.

Only seconds later a group of soldiers wearing red turn the corner.

Mark slows his walk, but before he has the chance to do much more, Donghyuck smoothly steers him into a different alleyway, the hand on his arm light and firm at once. Mark doesn’t mind, but finds himself wondering if Donghyuck simply didn’t know that it was improper for a servant to touch him without his command.

He hadn’t thought much of it when he’d huddled close for warmth or when he’d slipped his hand into his outside of the gate, but it was happening more frequently than Mark was used to –his past servant even having struggled to as much as meet his gaze, let alone let her fingers graze his skin.

He finds himself contemplating it as they make their way to the raven tower, the staircase leading up to the ravens old and rickety, but before they’ve even as much as had the chance to climb it, an old woman descends from the stairs and closes the gate, digging a large lock out the pockets of her dress.

“You’re closing?” Mark asks her, hoping that he’s reading the situation wrong. “It isn’t even evening yet.”

She looks him up and down, and despite the clear difference in status between the two of them, the old woman’s clothes made out of a rough wool, dirty from where it meets the ground, she disregards him easily.

“All the ravens are out,” she responds shortly. “If you want to send a letter you’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

Mark frowns.

If they sent the raven tomorrow, it would still reach the Steadfast before the time limit the general had given them was up, but it would be at the last second, leaving no room for error. He would also have to pay extra for the fastest raven, which would cost even more money.

Mark watches her leave with a pinched expression on his face before he turns to Donghyuck, and while he doesn’t expect there to be a smile on Donghyuck’s face, he also doesn’t expect his forehead to be puckered, the decent mood he’d been in all day gone. It makes Mark pause, wonder if Donghyuck was worried about the city getting stormed or just simply annoyed that they had raced to the city in vain.

If anything, Donghyuck’s mood only sours when it becomes obvious that they will probably not be able to afford renting a room at a tavern either, ignoring the clerk behind the counter in favor of glaring at him.

“Why did you bring so little money?” he questions, Mark raising an eyebrow in response, once again wondering if Donghyuck had any idea how lucky he was that he hadn’t gotten sent to serve someone else after Lord Young’s death.

“I didn’t think more was needed,” Mark replies, and finds himself more annoyed with Donghyuck than the situation. If anything, he was the one who should have been in a bad mood. “I didn’t know the entrance fee would be so expensive.”

The tavern clerk squirms a little, obviously sensing a storm brewing between them, because she clears her throat and looks around awkwardly to make sure that the owner of the house isn’t around.

“Well, um, as long as you just want to get a roof over your heads, there is a pleasure house down the street. That should probably be cheaper.”

Mark nearly shakes his head on principle, but then realizes that the only other option would be sleeping on the streets where they could be chanced upon by soldiers any time.

It was obvious which the better option was.

Despite knowing plenty of soldiers who sought out pleasure houses whenever they had the chance, Mark had never been one of them, never accepting the bed servants he’d gotten as gifts from people trying to win his favor, never wanting to fuck someone who didn’t want him back, risk getting anyone pregnant.

When he looks over at Donghyuck, he expects to find him even grumpier, but to his surprise there is something resembling amusement on his face, the news having wiped the bothered frown off his face.

“Why are you so happy?” Mark asks. “This isn’t funny.”

“It isn’t,” he answers. “But seeing you panic is.”

The girl behind the counter tilts her head, a bit baffled by the exchange, but with no other option they head to the pleasure house.

It’s at the end of the street, and if the bright red door hadn’t been enough to draw their attention, the sound of muted moans escaping through the opened windows is. Mark feels stiffer than he remembers being in a long time as they enter –immediately spotting a naked boy slipping out of a room, his back full of nail and bite marks.

Mark tears his eyes away, fixing his attention on the clerk and Donghyuck alone, itching to grab Donghyuck’s arm and leave.

“What are you looking for, darlings?” the man by the entrance asks. He’s dressed in a dark blue robe and gazes at the two of them with a trained sultriness that makes Mark want to cover Donghyuck from view. “One-on-one action? Someone to join you two? Perhaps a group?”

Mark tries to push down the heat he feels rising to his neck, hoping that Donghyuck doesn’t notice. From the way his pink lips twitch, Mark thinks he probably does.

“We’re just looking for a place to sleep. No need for anything...else.”

The smile fades slightly from the man’s face.

“Oh,” he says, shoulders slumping. “Then that’ll be two coins for the both of you. The resting area is upstairs.”

He doesn’t do more than point towards the carpeted staircase, interest in them having withered as soon as it had become obvious that they weren’t going to spend much money, but Mark finds himself happy for it.

There are already a few people asleep on the small mattresses strewn out across the resting room, the sheer curtains separating the room in smaller sections and offering some semblance of privacy. Sadly, they don’t do much to hide the couple moving against each other in one of the corners, the oil glistening on their naked skin catching the light of a burning candle, nor muffle the sound of skin slapping against skin.

Mark stalks in the opposite direction, aiming to get as far away from the couple as possible —Donghyuck following behind at a much slower pace.

“I thought Seolrans were modest,” Mark says under his breath as he lies down on the carpeted floor, resting his head on his arm rather than one of the many pillows. The closest to him had smelled of smoke and perfume, and while he knew that he couldn’t ask for much from such a cheap accommodation, he’d rather sleep with no pillow than with a pillow that didn’t look like it had been washed for months.

“More modest than Kwayangs at least,” Donghyuck responds, settling on the ground next to him, much further away than he had been the night before. It’s the only logical choice, but Mark still finds himself oddly bothered by the distance. “At least we think matrimony is something that should be respected.”

Mark considers his statement for a long minute.

“I don’t know if I think a widow remarrying is disrespectful,” Mark counters softly, not in the mood for a fight.

Donghyuck is silent for long enough that Mark doesn’t think he is going to respond, but it seems like some of the annoyance had truly faded after he’d seen how uncomfortable Mark had been entering the pleasure house, because his eyes are pretty and sparkling in the muted light of the shared room, devoid of any anger.

“I guess it’s just custom,” he says. “The royals are strictly monogamous because of their powers. I guess it just passed down to the common folk as well.”

Mark turns the words over in his head.

“You'd think they would be polygamous, though.” Mark responds. “More power and all of that.”

Donghyuck shrugs, tearing his gaze away.

“I guess.”

Something pokes at the back of Mark's mind.

He opens his mouth, not entirely sure what to say but not wanting the conversation to end, but is interrupted by the sound of steps approaching the resting room. Mark sees Donghyuck tense only a second later, his eyes fixed on the entrance behind him, and when Mark turns his head slightly and sees a trio of soldiers carrying red armor, it becomes obvious why.

“—long do you think we have to wait?” one of them asks, a boy their age who speaks with a slight accent, his hair longer than the army standard.

“Probably no longer than a few minutes,” another responds, a grin on his face. “It’s his first time, after all.”

The two burst into laughter, and Donghyuck uses the opportunity to tear his gaze away, to scoot closer to Mark, making sure to keep his voice low.

“We should turn around and act like we’re asleep,” Donghyuck says, a tension to his shoulders that takes Mark by surprise. Mark considers his words for a few seconds, but then shakes his head.

“That could be foolish,” he responds. “We need to see what they’re doing.”

It was the first lesson he’d been taught in the army, to never keep his eyes off the enemy. Turning around would ensure that the soldiers didn’t see their faces, but it would also leave them too vulnerable, and there was little chance that they were going to recognize Mark in the first place. Turning their gazes away would do more damage than it would do good.

“Can’t you just listen to what I’m saying?” Donghyuck whispers back, eyebrows furrowed.

Mark frowns, once again a little bit confused by his reaction, mood having changed from one second to the next.

“Aren’t you the one who should listen?” he wonders. “ _I’m_ the general.”

“You’re not really acting like one.”

Donghyuck accidentally raises his voice at the end, the sound of their muted argument carrying across the room, drawing the attention of the small group of soldiers. Three heads turn their way, and while the two boys who had been busy chatting among themselves disregard them almost immediately, going back to conversing among themselves, the one standing the closest to them doesn’t.

Instead, he keeps his gaze on them, his hair almost looking almost a little blue in the muted light, and through the sheer curtain, Mark sees a hint of gold shine on his left chest plate, announcing that he isn’t just a regular private like the rest of the soldiers, but of some higher position.

He looks at them and pauses, squinting in their direction, and Mark watches in slow motion as he turns around and takes a step towards them. One step turns into two, and Mark has a cold premonition that he won’t stop until he’s standing above them.

From the way he had frozen when he’d spotted Mark, it wasn’t difficult to guess that he knew who he was, that all hell would break loose once he did.

Mark calms his breath and draws energy into his fingertips, preparing for a fight, but doesn’t have the chance to do anything before Donghyuck closes the remaining distance between them and throws one of his legs across his waist. It’s firm and warm against his body, and Mark feels the energy in his hands fizzle away, his focus broken at the unexpected intimacy.

For a second, he wonders if Donghyuck is scared, if he had approached him to seek comfort, but before Mark can console him, brush the hair out of his face and tell him that things were going to be fine, Donghyuck leans in and kisses him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you all had a really wonderful holiday ♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ) pls let me know if you liked it or if you have any theories or thoughts!


	4. healer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if you accidentally ended up getting two notifications about this update ;;; i have some talents i promise but technology is not one of them oops <3

Their lips don’t meet for longer than a fraction of a second before Donghyuck pulls away, but it is enough to leave Mark dizzy, to have all of the air in his lungs evaporate. As close as they remain, Mark can feel the warmth of Donghyuck’s breath against his skin, feel how Donghyuck’s bangs fall against his own forehead, and Mark is frozen until Donghyuck’s hand comes to cup his neck.

“Run your hands through my hair,” Donghyuck whispers quietly, breath ghosting over his lips, and Mark doesn’t hesitate for longer than a second before one of his hands flies up to his hair, incredibly soft under his fingertips. Donghyuck inhales sharply at the action, the leg that is sprawled over Mark’s waist jerking slightly, brushing over his groin.

Mark bites back a small groan, tightening his grip on Donghyuck’s hair.

“Don’t move,” Mark murmurs, the scent of Donghyuck and the feeling of his body against his having moved all of the blood in his body south. Donghyuck stills in response, eyes flying up to meet his own, pupils wide and dilated.

There’s a flush on his cheeks, and Mark pulls at the coarse threads of the carpet underneath him and wills the room to stop spinning.

“Jeno?” one of the soldiers asks while Mark struggles to remember how to breathe, how to form the most basic of thoughts. “Are you coming?”

There is a beat of silence, and then the soldier –Jeno— clears his throat.

“Yeah, I just thought…” he trails off. “It’s nothing.”

There’s the sound of shoes walking across the wooden floor, of voices gradually fading and lessening in volume, and although a part of Mark doesn’t want Donghyuck to pull away –wants to pull him closer and press more kisses against his mouth— an even larger part wants Donghyuck to get off his lap before he riles him up further.

“I think we should be safe,” Mark croaks, swallowing drily. He thinks that his voice must come as a surprise to Donghyuck because his gaze darts down to his lips briefly before he scrambles away, Mark hoping that his heartbeat isn’t audible in the space between them.

Donghyuck goes back to the other side of the mattress, further away than he had been sleeping before the soldiers had entered, his expression unreadable. A flush still sits high on his cheeks, and if Mark hadn’t known better he would have said that he was flustered. As it is, he wonders only if he is embarrassed, if he had hated having to kiss him to the extent that it would even show on his skin.

The thought bothers him more than he would like to admit.

“I’m going to sleep,” Donghyuck mutters, turning away from him.

Mark rolls onto his back, staring up at the wooden beams lining the ceiling, and tries to mute out the sound of the couple talking in the other corner of the room. It seemed like they were finished fucking, and for the first time Mark is jealous of them, blood still scorching in his veins, body craving skin, heat.

For a while he thinks that it’ll be the second time in two nights that he will barely sleep, but before he knows it his sleepiness wins over and his vision fades to black.

* * *

When he wakes sunlight is streaming in through open windows.

Mark opens his eyes groggily, rubbing his face with the back of his hand, and notes with some dismay that the sun is higher in the sky than he had expected it to be, that early morning had already passed.

There’s a “we should get up” on the tip of his tongue when he rolls over and finds the mattress empty beside him.

He decides to give Donghyuck the benefit of the doubt as he slings the bag he had brought across his shoulder, telling himself that he might just have gone to the washing room, but to Mark’s growing discontent he finds the bathroom empty, and with no other direction he heads downstairs.

The daylight makes the pleasure house look a lot less alluring than it had at late dusk, a lot less mysterious, and he spots the clerk who had welcomed them snoozing one of the leather sofas, soft snores escaping his open mouth.

Mark heads over, kicking the back of the sofa with his shoe to wake him up.

“Have you seen the boy I came here with?”

The clerk takes a while to process his words, not bothering to hide a yawn.

“I think he left an hour ago.”

Mark swears under his breath and is out of the door in seconds, but doesn’t have time to as much as exit the building before he runs into the person he’d been looking for, Donghyuck letting out a small noise at the crash.

“Where have you been?” Mark asks, glaring at him. “You can’t leave without saying anything.”

Donghyuck is tense for a moment before he relaxes, but it doesn’t evade Mark’s notice that his breath is heavy, that there is sweat beading on his forehead.

“I just wanted to go for a walk,” he says, tilting his head up challengingly. “I wasn’t gone for longer than ten minutes. I thought you would still be asleep.”

Mark presses his lips together, scrutinizing him, but besides the evidence pointing to him just having gone on a run there is no sign of him lying, that the clerk couldn’t just have fallen asleep and mistaken the time. Donghyuck looks at him with a pretty eyebrow raised, and Mark feels the anger in his body melt away.

“Don’t do that anymore,” he orders, and is happy that some of the bite remains. “We should head to the raven tower.”

Donghyuck nods, and with nothing else to say they head off, Mark doing his best to hold on to what little annoyance he still has left.

Thankfully, it turns out that purchasing the fastest raven is an easy affair, and Mark watches in relief as it flaps its wings and sets off in the direction of the Steadfast, a dark silhouette against the pale blue sky. Soon enough they would have to follow the bird and begin their ride back to the camp, but for the first time in two days there was no urgency —proven further when Mark discovers that he has some money to spare even after he’s paid for the bird.

For a moment Mark hesitates, but then he turns to the lady in charge of the ravens and gets the directions from her.

Donghyuck turns to him with a confused look in his eyes when he walks down the staircase and then heads in the opposite direction of the exit.

“Where are we heading?”

It doesn’t escape Mark’s notice that it’s the first time he had truly addressed him since the kiss, since he’d been caught by Mark outside of the pleasure house.

“You are a horrible servant, you know,” Mark comments. “Most servants wouldn’t ask, they would just follow.”

Donghyuck shoots him a look.

“Well, I feel the need to know where we’re heading in case you’re planning something stupid.”

Mark remains quiet on principle.

They only come to a stop when Mark spots sage leaves hanging over a small, decorated archway, the entrance leading into a garden green and bustling with life.

“What is this place?” Donghyuck asks, the words just having left his mouth when a lady appears behind two pillars. Mark recognizes the white paint on her forehead, and it seems like Donghyuck does too, because his eyes go round even before Mark answers.

“We’re here to see a healer.”

Donghyuck’s face snaps to his immediately.

“We’re here to what?” he hisses.

Mark makes sure to keep his voice low.

“You won’t be able to get help back at the camp.”

Donghyuck swallows tensely, watching silently as Mark handles the conversation. The remaining money Mark has in his pouch is just enough to cover the cost of the treatment, and Mark is relieved for it as they are ushered into a room shortly thereafter.

Donghyuck gets told to go and lay down on the small divan by the female healer who had met them in the garden, her black hair drawn into a tight bun, eyes appraising as she looks at them both.

“Please remove your shirt,” she tells Donghyuck, and while Donghyuck doesn’t object, there is a tension to the set of his shoulders as he tears the simple servant’s shirt over his head, leaving more skin on display than Mark has ever seen before. He’d seen parts of his back and stomach over the last few weeks, his waist, but never all at once.

The healer takes one look at his stomach and frowns.

“A burn,” she says. “Those can be a little tricky.”

Mark freezes, wondering how he could have missed it before. Out of all the ways to get a wound, fire was the only thing that could have left Donghyuck’s skin red and textured, unlike any other wound he had ever seen before. He had known that it couldn't have come from a knife or a cut, but he hadn't imagined that it had come from flames, that fire could create such a strange injury.

The healer sits down next to Donghyuck, splaying her hands across Donghyuck’s stomach, and although Mark could understand not always being comfortable wearing so little, he doesn’t understand the pinched expression on Donghyuck’s face as she begins her work.

Mark’s confusion only deepens when the healer stills halfway through healing him and then looks up at Donghyuck with wide eyes. Their eye contact lasts long enough that Mark finds himself a bit troubled, wondering if the wound had been more severe than expected.

“Is something wrong?” Mark asks, the healer jumping in response, suddenly seeming to remember that they weren’t alone in the room.

“No, no,” she says, shaking her head. “Just got a bit distracted.”

She returns to healing Donghyuck immediately, the wound closing itself slowly until the only thing left is smooth, golden skin, all the evidence of there ever being a burn on his stomach gone.

“There. All done.”

She spares Donghyuck another glance as she leaves the room to attend to what Mark guesses is a new patient. There’s a frown on her face, the white paint on her forehead creased, but Mark pays her no mind, instead focusing his attention on Donghyuck.

“How did you get a burn that bad?” he asks, pushing down an urge to walk over and inspect his stomach, to let his fingers brush over his lower abdomen and make sure that Donghyuck truly was as healed as it appeared.

“I was foolish.”

Mark frowns.

“How can foolishness lead to that?” he asks. “That’s not a wound you could have made yourself.”

It’s as he is asking the question that he realizes that there is really only one person who could have created the wound, who Donghyuck would actually bother covering for. That there was only one person whose reputation he didn’t want to tarnish.

“It was Lord Young, wasn’t it?”

Donghyuck blinks, gazing at him with large eyes, and then bursts into laughter. It’s a pretty sound and there is no mockery in his eyes, his gaze instead warm as he looks at Mark, but Mark takes a bit offence to it nonetheless.

“It has to be,” he continues. “You couldn’t have created that wound yourself. And you wouldn’t be covering for anyone else.”

Donghyuck stops laughing, shaking his head softly.

“You can think what you want.”

They leave Behyun in the afternoon, Donghyuck radiant and glowing as he hoists himself onto his horse, the sun making his hair look like it’s shining, a halo around his face. Mark struggles to tear his gaze away, wondering how it is possible that he had somehow managed to become even more handsome after getting healed, because even though the healer had only healed the part of Donghyuck that Mark’s own power couldn’t reach, the change is immense.

There’s a difference in how he sits on the horse, in how he carries himself, and while he hadn’t cowered before, he seems more relaxed, not so much a cornered animal as something else, something infinitely stronger. He makes small talk with him when they’re riding past rocks and trees, bushes and small streams, and when they stop for a small break for no other reason than to enjoy the scenery, Donghyuck even goes as far as to sit next to him.

“Why did you heal me?” he asks.

Mark wonders how to cushion his words before he decides to simply be honest.

“If your wound got infected at the camp you would have died,” he states. “I might have been able to bribe a healer into healing you, but if it got discovered it would have ended in all of our heads rolling. This was the best chance you had of getting your wound healed.”

Mark takes a small breath of air and then adds, “Even if you won’t tell me how you got wounded in the first place.”

Donghyuck turns the words over in his head and wets his lips, seeming almost a little troubled.

“It’s not…What I said wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t Lord Young.” He trails off. “Things would have been easier if we hadn’t been enemies.”

“I saved your life and you helped me hide from the soldiers. I know you don’t like Kwayangs, but we aren’t enemies.”

Donghyuck narrows his eyes.

“Then what would you do if I ran?” he asks, skeptical. “I may be your servant, but I’m also your prisoner. You won’t even allow me to go for a walk on my own.”

“That’s because there would be a bounty on your head the second you left my side,” Mark counters. “It wouldn’t even matter if I said that you had died in Behyun, the general wouldn’t have believed it. You’d be dead in days.”

Donghyuck stares at him for a long moment, gaze darting over his face, his moles, his eyebrows, down to his lips for a brief second before his eyes leave his face entirely, focusing once more on the sparkling river stretching out below.

“I never seem to be able to figure you out,” Donghyuck murmurs, lost in thought.

Mark expects him to say something more, but instead he gets to his feet and walks back to his horse, Mark following shortly thereafter.

They set up camp a little bit further away than they had before, Donghyuck striking up a small fire while the two of them share the small food they have left.

And then they go to bed.

This time around, Mark settles next to Donghyuck right away, and it truly does seem like some of the tension has been lost between them because Donghyuck only shuffles closer in response, the tension gone from his body. Besides it being in part due to Donghyuck having grown used to him, Mark also thinks that is has to do with his lack of an injury, because although Mark hadn’t noticed that he had been injured the first weeks they had known each other, it was plain to see that it had been a weight shackled to his body now that it was gone.

Mark turns his head while they’re both laying on their back, the ground hard beneath their bodies but not entirely uncomfortable, and finds that Donghyuck is already facing him, his eyes reflecting the light of the stars above, the fire.

Mark forgets to breathe.

“Thank you for healing me,” Donghyuck says, seeming to have contemplated his words for quite a while. “I know most people wouldn’t have. I was honest when I said that I wished we weren’t enemies.”

Mark bites his lower lip, deciding to say what he’d been considering since he had found Donghyuck in the woods and had realized that the camp wasn’t as safe as he had wished.

“And I was honest when I said that I don’t think we have to be,” he says. “I know that things aren’t ideal right now, but when the war is over or the general leaves, I’ll drop you off at some small town and we can pretend that you’re dead. You can start a new life.”

It would mean Donghyuck disappearing from his life, the two of them never seeing each other again, and while the thought made his insides wither, his stomach lurch, it was infinitely better than Donghyuck dying.

“You’d help me escape?” Donghyuck asks, a little quietly, gaze gentle and intense all at once. “You’d risk your life?”

Mark nods.

“I promise.”

Donghyuck is silent, deathly still for what feels like an eternity, eyes flashing with emotions and thoughts that Mark can’t even begin to comprehend, but then his lips are upon his, and Mark’s only thought is that Donghyuck tastes like sugar.

The discovery leaves Mark breathless, unable to do anything but indulge in the feeling of his lips against his; saccharine and addictive.

Donghyuck’s hair falls over his forehead, much like it had at the pleasure house, but this time Mark doesn’t need to be told to run his hands through his hair, not being able to stop himself even if he tried. Donghyuck’s hand cups his jaw in response, tilting his head up and granting him easier access to his lips, and his fingers burn on his neck in a pleasant sort of way –leaving Mark gasping, licking at the seam of Donghyuck’s mouth and deepening the kiss.

The fire in his stomach that has wanted to tug Donghyuck close ever since he first laid eyes on him flares as hot as a beacon, only amplified after Mark breathes in his scent and nips at his lips.

He is left in pleasant surprise when he isn’t the only one displeased by the remaining barrier between them.

“Closer,” Donghyuck demands, tugging at the collar of his shirt, lips stuttering against his own for a brief second before he settles on top of him, legs on either side of Mark’s waist.

Mark feels his cock fill out, his blood scalding as it rushes through his veins. It makes him unable to form thoughts, to focus on anything other than Donghyuck and instinct, the need to fuck.

He rocks up against Donghyuck before he even registers what he is doing, and the small gasp that Donghyuck lets out in response is enough to drive Mark crazy, to make any remaining sanity disappear. He rolls them over, pressing more kisses against Donghyuck’s lips, and even through the layers of fabric between them, Mark can feel his own cock brushing against Donghyuck’s, the sensation enough to pull another ragged moan out of Donghyuck.

Donghyuck’s arms encircle his neck as he licks into his mouth, and it’s that and nothing else that makes Mark unable to notice the intruders until they’re almost rolling over their feet, lips still locked, Mark having no desire to stop.

“Well, well, well,” the intruder says, words piercing through the haze that is Mark’s mind. “ _What_ do we have _here_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you liked it or have any thoughts or ideas please let me know! (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧* hope you all are doing well!


	5. intruder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you’re wondering why this chapter is a little late, it’s because markhyuck bowl of freaking 2021 happened and i spent two days crying haha. hope this chapter makes up for it tho! ♡ thank you also to my beta if you’re reading this ilu!
> 
> (also just a little reminder that this is an author chose not to use warnings work ;; read with caution)

The intruder pushes Donghyuck forward with his jaw locked, the knife against Donghyuck’s neck gleaming against his skin. It’s held there by an unsteady and brawny hand, and while it matches the dagger poking Mark in the back, he pays his own predicament no mind as he watches the blade move against Donghyuck’s throat.

“Is there anything in their bags?”

The leader of the trio speaks with a western drawl, and for what Mark suspects won’t be the last time, he curses himself for not having been more careful concealing their camp. Out of all the different dangers he had envisioned coming with travelling over open territory –armies and wild animals, snakes and squadrons— he had never taken a travelling trio of mercenaries into consideration.

Had it been any other occasion, their supposed heist wouldn’t have made him bat an eye, able to take them all on without so much as using his powers, but by the time he’d gotten onto his feet there had already been a knife at Donghyuck’s throat. And while Mark was confident in his ability to get them out alive, he refused to take even the smallest of risks while there was a sharp dagger pointed at one of the major arteries in Donghyuck’s body.

“No,” the third person answers, opening the saddle bag and emptying its content out over the ground. “Not even one coin.”

“We don’t have any money,” Mark cuts in. “We’re just travelers.”

The leader tilts his head questioningly, resting his chin on Donghyuck’s shoulder, and Mark feels resentment curl viciously in his stomach.

To his surprise, Donghyuck doesn’t look half as bothered as Mark expects him to.

He’s tense in his captor’s hold, but there is no trace of fear on his face. Instead, Mark realizes with a bit of bafflement, he is glaring at the woman behind Mark with frosty eyes. There is no lingering warmth from their exchanged kisses, nothing that hints at the heat he’d radiated while they’d rolled around on the ground. The only thing that makes Mark believe that he hadn’t simply imagined their kisses is Donghyuck’s swollen lips, his ruffled hair.

“With two military class horses?” the leader asks skeptically. “Special travelers indeed.” He gazes at them appraisingly and adds, “Special and _pretty_ travelers. I could probably fetch a pretty buck for one of you.”

Mark scowls, once again wondering how he was going to get them out of trouble.

If he made the ground soft around the scavenger’s feet, the man holding Donghyuck would still be able to drive a knife through his back, but if he made the earth disappear from underneath him, chances were that he would drag Donghyuck with him. The best option was to wait until he had removed the knife from Donghyuck’s neck, but Mark had no idea when that was going to happen.

The third man, the one who had been looking over the horses and rummaging through their bags, looks at Donghyuck with narrowed eyes.

“That one has the type of look most people like,” he states. “Shame he isn’t a virgin, though.”

The leader grins, his lips parting to reveal yellow teeth.

“That’s a good thing, Jeongwon. Means that there is nothing stopping us from adding another few bodies to his list of conquests.”

Mark forgets the knife at his back, his vision fading to black as he struggles against the arm holding him back, energy scorching his entire being. It pours down into his legs, out into his feet and toes, demanding to be set free. It’s only the cold touch of steel digging through his shirt, kissing his skin and drawing blood that has him remembering himself, that it will do no good to attack them just yet.

“Probably best to kill his boyfriend sooner rather than later.”

Donghyuck’s expression hardens, and it’s only because Mark is already looking at him that he notices the way his eyes dart down before they fly up to meet his own. He repeats the action until Mark follows his gaze, spotting that the hand against his side is displaying five fingers.

While maintaining eye contact with him, Donghyuck folds one of them, and then another.

Mark tenses.

He does his best to shake his head without the captors noticing, to fix his eyes on Donghyuck warningly, but despite Donghyuck noticing, he doesn’t stop. He folds the third and fourth, and Mark finds himself reluctantly grateful that his body is still crackling with power, that his heart is beating a staccato rhythm in his chest.

The last of Donghyuck’s fingers fold, and then quick as a fox, one of Donghyuck’s hands fly up to the hand that is holding onto the knife, forcing it away while he pulls his head forward and slams it back. The back of his head meets his captor’s nose with a sickening crunch, and while the leader had held onto him tightly, he had clearly not expected resistance, especially not one so well executed.

He loses his grip on Donghyuck, stumbling backwards, but recovers quickly, focusing on Donghyuck with steel in his eyes.

Any gentleness that could have existed before Donghyuck had bested him in front of his companions is gone, and Mark knows with cold certainty that he is going to kill Donghyuck within the coming few seconds, that Donghyuck’s red blood will spill out over the dark ground. He knows that the knife will do more damage than the burn ever had, that Mark won’t be able to save him once he had, any chance of a proper healer having begun and ended in Behyun.

Mark sees red.

He doesn’t register how he manages to break out of the grip his captor holds him in, but from one second to the next his captor is on the ground, unconscious, and Mark is smashing his hand down onto the ground. The energy in his hand pours into the soil, permeating stone and dirt, rippling through the earth and splitting it wide open.

It cracks and shifts in front of his eyes, becoming a wall of earth and stone that rushes towards them both.

The leader barely has time to react before the ground slams into him, and while Mark tries to calm the raging earth, he is unable to stop the avalanche he had created from swallowing the remaining two mercenaries without a semblance of mercy, their shouts fading to become deathly silence.

The only one who is left uninjured is Donghyuck, standing on the only piece of land that is unaffected, his eyes as wide as saucers.

Mark’s adrenaline shifts to become dread.

He’d gotten used to the looks he received after battles from privates who had previously looked at him in awe, to the friends he had made avoiding him after seeing his powers in action, but he didn’t think anything could prepare him for Donghyuck looking at him in fear.

Mark’s hands cramp a little as he digs his nails into the palm of his hands, but instead of Donghyuck avoiding his gaze, he breaks into the prettiest smile Mark has ever seen.

“That wasn’t really what I had in mind,” Donghyuck says breathily, half a laugh, half something else entirely. Mark stares, heart skipping several beats as Donghyuck steps over deep cracks in the ground, coming to a stop in front of him, his eyes shining.

“Are you okay?” Mark asks, unable to stop his hands from darting up to Donghyuck’s neck. It is a little red from where the blade had been resting, but no skin had been pierced, no blood spilled.

Mark’s wills his hands to stop shaking.

“Yes. Fine.”

“Then what were you thinking?” he wonders, annoyed. “You could have gotten killed.”

Donghyuck shrugs, not worried in the slightest, still smiling a little –hopelessly, impossibly pretty.

“I wasn’t.”

For a second, Mark thinks that Donghyuck is going to say something, that he is going to kiss him again, but then he catches sight of something behind him and frowns. When Mark follows his gaze he sees the horse the intruder had been inspecting running at full speed.

“Well, that’s bad.”

Mark forces himself to stop thinking about Donghyuck’s lips.

“We can’t stay here,” he says, eyeing the deep cracks beneath their feet. “The ripple was probably heard from miles away. We need to leave.”

With no other option they share the remaining horse.

Donghyuck jumps up behind him, sneaking his arms around his waist, and despite not having slept a wink, Mark is too busy basking in Donghyuck’s affection to care about not having rested properly for several nights in a row.

They make it back to the campsite by early morning, met by a squadron that salutes and lower their weapons once it becomes clear that they aren’t enemies. Mark feels their eyes follow them both, lingering on Donghyuck and their clothes, but they never look at Donghyuck fully. It’s a show of respect that Mark had never cared about before, but that he suddenly finds he doesn’t hate, happy only that Donghyuck is safe.

They jump off the horse once they reach his tent, Mark offering his hand out to Donghyuck only to find that he’s already waiting for him on the ground, one of his eyebrows raised. It has Mark’s lips tugging upward, but the smile fades when a soldier steps into view, the collar on his armor letting Mark know that he’s there on an official errand.

“The general wants to see you, sir.”

Mark bites back a sigh.

He had expected to be called upon, but he hadn’t expected it to be so soon, having hoped to at least change his clothes and bathe before duty was called. But despite every bone in his body wanting to, he couldn’t deny a request from the general of the army.

“Alright.”

He turns to Donghyuck, something inside of him clenching uncomfortably at the thought of having to leave him alone.

“You can take a bath and go to bed if you want,” he says, lowering his voice. “There’s a medal with two stripes in the top drawer. If you show it to a servant and say that you’re under my orders no one will deny a request.”

Donghyuck nods, licking his lips, and Mark follows the soldier to the general’s tent. It’s the largest one out of all of the tents on site, and Mark waits for the soldier to signal his arrival before he enters, immediately wishing that he hadn’t.

The first thing he notices as he steps into the tent is the smell of sex. The second is that the general of the army is naked in bed with a girl. Mark tenses, looking away, and wonders if the general took a sick sort of pleasure in making them both uncomfortable. It wouldn’t surprise him if he did.

“You asked for me, sir,” he mutters, fixing his eyes on the mahogany table in the middle of the room. It was littered with bottles and scrunched up papers, the bin by the side almost entirely empty.

“I did,” he says, putting on a flimsy robe and slipping his feet into a pair of slippers. “I called you to let you know that there has been a change of plans. We’re invading Behyun in three days’ time.”

Mark forgets his discomfort.

“What?” he asks faintly. “Did we get new orders?”

The general shakes his head.

“No,” he answers. “But it’s the natural choice to make now that we know that there are no royals there. They won’t have time to prepare a defense.” He pours some water into a glass and then looks at Mark with heavy eyes. “You’ll be front line since you know the way around the city.”

And just like that, Mark understands the general’s motives.

Being in the second line during battle meant that he could focus on uprooting the enemy’s formation without having to worry about being targeted, but if he was in first, he would have to focus on both performing his duties as well as fighting soldiers. It meant that he would be ripe in the middle of battle, in range of getting hit by arrows and spears, more vulnerable than he had ever been before.

The general was hoping to kill two birds with one stone –one of the birds being himself.

“I see.”

When he returns to his own tent, all he feels is cold.

Donghyuck is asleep on the sofa, warming himself in front of a small fire, and Mark realizes just how easily he’d forgotten that they were in the middle of a war, that he couldn’t go on adventures and pretend to be married to Donghyuck forever.

For a moment he pities himself, but then he bites the inside of his cheek and walks over to the lukewarm bathwater, tearing his shirt over his head. He has just finished pulling his pants on and done his best to dry his hair when Donghyuck stirs, blinking his eyes open slowly. He squints for a few seconds before his eyes focus, and although Mark knows that Donghyuck had seen him without his shirt on before, he doesn’t think it had ever been in broad daylight.

“You have more scars than I imagined,” Donghyuck says.

There’s a hidden question in his statement, but Mark doesn’t blame him for it –not since he knew that he could just send a wall of soil in his enemies’ direction, that he could kill them before they had the chance to as much as touch him.

“Most are old,” Mark answers, throwing the used cloth to the side. “They refused to heal me when I was still learning to channel my power and failed. A lesson to teach me that a weapon is useless unless it can fire, I guess.”

Donghyuck is silent.

“You could have gotten them healed.”

“Do you hate them?”

“No,” he says, getting out the sofa. “I think you’re pretty. But I don’t think it’s pretty that you have scars from your military training. Had I known you back then I would have stopped it.”

Mark smiles a little, endeared by the thought of a young Donghyuck standing up for him. In a different world perhaps, Mark thinks, one where Donghyuck had been blessed with powers, where Mark wouldn’t have to be worried that Donghyuck would have gotten killed for his insolence.

He shudders when Donghyuck stretches out a hand and touches his torso, his fingers cold as he traces out a scar with his fingers, a distant look in his eyes.

“At least you don’t have any new ones,” Donghyuck says, and Mark tenses, knowing that it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

Donghyuck notices.

“What?” he asks, frowning, and Mark swallows.

“We’re storming Behyun in three days.”

Donghyuck pales, taking a step back.

“What?” he rasps. “I thought the only reason we travelled there was so that it wouldn’t get stormed.”

“Apparently the general changed his mind.”

Donghyuck tears his hand away from his chest like it had gotten burned, his gaze turbulent. He turns around, hiding his face from view, but Mark sees the tension to his shoulders, the way this entire body stiffens. It’s miles away from the relaxed state he had been in when Mark had just entered the tent.

“I see,” he says, voice strange. “I need—I’m going to go grab something from the servants’ tent.”

“Do you want me to call for help?” Mark asks, trying and failing to find something to say to placate the situation.

“No.”

Mark bites his lip as Donghyuck leaves the tent, his expression unreadable.

He doesn’t return until much later.

By then the sun is already beginning to set, Donghyuck’s cheeks flushed from the wind, his hair ruffled. His hands are empty, free from whatever he had said he had wanted to fetch, but Mark refrains from asking, already having suspected that he’d lied in order to clear his head.

Mark expects him to speak up sooner or later, to at least hint to what was bothering him so, but Donghyuck remains mute as they creep into bed, settling just out of Mark’s reach. Mark feels his gaze on him while he attempts to fall asleep, heavy despite his attempt to hide it, and while his plan is to wait for Donghyuck to fall asleep first, Mark realizes that he’s failed when he feels someone touch him in the middle of the night.

If it hadn’t been for Donghyuck’s comforting scent wrapping around him like a blanket, he would have pinned him against the bed, but as it is he only startles awake.

The room is dim, lit only by a candle on Mark’s bedside table, and Donghyuck’s soft silhouette is illuminated by the gentle flame. The skin underneath his eyes is a muted blue, and Mark wonders if he has slept at all.

“Donghyuck?” Mark asks, voice hoarse. “Are you alright?”

Mark props himself up against the pillow, one of his hands coming to cup Donghyuck’s cheeks, and although Donghyuck’s eyes are unreadable in the dark, he shudders a little at his touch.

“Do you remember what you said last night?”

“What?”

“Before we kissed.”

Mark rummages his brain but comes up empty, too tired to know exactly what Donghyuck is referring to. He opens his mouth to ask, but hesitates once he notices the vulnerable tinge to Donghyuck’s face, unlike any other expression Mark has ever seen on his face before. Usually he wore his confidence like an armour, but there was something almost delicate about him, something that made the question die on his lips.

“Yes,” he lies. “Yes, I remember.”

Donghyuck looks at him, Adam’s apple bobbing, and then shuffles closer, breath soft against his skin. Mark startles, mind reeling as he tries to figure out what has gotten into Donghyuck, if he was worried about the possibility of him getting hurt, worried about Behyun or something else entirely.

Any and all thoughts fly out the window when Donghyuck takes a small breath of air and sits up, climbing on top of him gently, his thighs falling on either side of Mark’s waist. It makes Mark painfully aware that the shirt he had been wearing to sleep is a size too big for him, that it is slipping down his shoulder, revealing smooth and soft skin.

Mark hears blood rush through his ears, the thighs on either side of his waist scorching.

“What—”

“I agree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you liked it or have any thoughts or ideas please let me know! (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧* very, very excited about the next chapter hehe


	6. general

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a small psa to anyone that might have been worried: 
> 
> i promise that i won’t make the ending feel rushed! ♡ we’re already on chapter 6 (omg) but when i started planning this story i thought that every chapter was going to be around 5k words long. so far most have been around 3k. 
> 
> not sure if i will make up for the lack of words by making the last 4 chapters longer or by bumping the story up to 12 chapters, but as of now i’m leaning towards the first option :) thank you once again to anyone that is supporting this story and to my beta! ilu! hope you enjoy this chapter! ♡

Mark rolls them over gently, one hand on the back of Donghyuck’s neck, the other on his waist.

It makes Donghyuck release a small gasp, but it gets muffled by Mark’s lips when he settles between his thighs, unable to stop himself from kissing him. Mark nips at Donghyuck’s lower lip, soothing the small sting with his tongue, and feels his blood sing when Donghyuck moans sweetly in response, his hips rocking against his search of friction.

The kisses lack the frenzy of their first, but Mark prefers the intimacy of the late night, finding it more fitting of the quiet, sweltering warmth of their shared bed.

The candle by Mark’s bedside table flickers as Donghyuck’s tongue meets his own, and Mark’s cock hardens, already aching and heavy between his thighs. From the flimsy fabric separating him from Donghyuck, he knows that the feeling is reciprocated, that Donghyuck is just as hard, and it is enough to leave Mark lightheaded, to want to pull Donghyuck’s shorts down to his knees only so that they can be skin-on-skin.

He marks a trail of kisses down from his mouth to his jaw, Donghyuck tilting his head to allow him easier access, but when Mark makes a move to kiss him again, Donghyuck stops him with a hand on his chest.

“I need to confess something,” Donghyuck whispers.

His hair is sprawled out over the pillow, his gaze gentle and dark, and Mark forgets to breathe.

“I know I said that I’d had sex with Lord Young but I’ve never done this.”

Mark takes a while to process his words.

“What?”

Donghyuck glares at him, but Mark suspects it has more to do with embarrassment than it does with annoyance, because he refuses to meet his gaze.

“Are you really that surprised?” he grumbles. “I respect him but not like that.”

Mark wonders how it was possible that he was still immensely turned on despite Donghyuck talking about Lord Young while Mark’s cock was right between his thighs. The only thing it did was cut through the sharpest of his arousal, but Mark suspected that was a good thing.

“Oh.”

For a second, he is overwhelmingly relieved that Donghyuck had never gotten taken advantage of, that Lord Young had been honorable, but then the implications of Donghyuck’s words set in, the enormity of the act Donghyuck was about to commit.

Seolrans saw monogamy as a virtue, as something holy. If Donghyuck had sex with him, it would make it impossible for him to marry in the future, to share a life with anyone that wasn’t him.

Donghyuck could always lie and say that he was a virgin, but if the lie got discovered it would lead to his death. He wouldn’t even get the privilege of getting buried.

“Donghyuck,” Mark says, deathly serious. “Are you sure about this?”

Had it been anyone else Mark would have withdrawn, but it was impossible to think around Donghyuck, and as much as he wanted to be honorable, he despised the idea of Donghyuck being with someone else. The idea of Donghyuck marrying a stranger, of kissing and fucking them every night left a taste like acid in his mouth, made his stomach twist.

“I promised I would help you escape,” Mark continues. “Do you really want to do this with me? You could save your virginity for someone you want to live the rest of your life with.”

Donghyuck’s expression is impossible to interpret, but his resolve doesn’t waver.

“No,” he says. “I’m sure. I won’t change my mind.”

Mark reels at his answer, struggling to find something to say, but then decides to simply lean down and kiss him. Donghyuck returns the kiss eagerly, deepening it immediately, and Mark rocks against him helplessly, slipping his fingers underneath Donghyuck’s sleeping shorts.

He hikes them further up his thighs, the skin smooth and sweltering under his touch, and swallows the gasp that escapes Donghyuck’s lips while Mark continues to explore Donghyuck’s body. He allows his hands to stroke up his sides, to brush over his nipples, and when he pulls Donghyuck’s shirt over his head, the rough material makes Donghyuck shiver, his eyes darken.

He’s left without his shirt on, flawless skin on display, and Mark wonders if maybe Seolrans were right when it came to monogamy.

He didn’t know how anyone else could ever compare.

“I…” Mark begins, and although Donghyuck raises an eyebrow in response, Mark notices the smile he tries to smother.

“Oh, I know.”

Mark lets out a little laugh, hopelessly endeared, and presses his lips against his again. Donghyuck tugs him closer in response, his hands flying up to his shoulders and then slipping down his back slowly. They hadn’t dug out the oil yet, but Mark still shudders when Donghyuck lets his hand trail from his back to his lower stomach and then wrap around his cock, Mark so aroused that the touch almost hurts.

He is helpless to rock into Donghyuck’s hand, muffling his moan against Donghyuck’s neck, and the impatience to be rid of his clothes makes Mark tear his shirt over his head and kick his trousers to the floor. When he looks up, Donghyuck is staring at him intently, his shorts damp around his groin.

Mark’s mouth dries, arousal flowing like wildfire through his veins, and before he knows it he is hooking his fingers into the waistband of Donghyuck’s thin sleeping trousers, Donghyuck’s cock springing free as he pulls them down.

It’s curved against his stomach, leaking a little, and Mark’s heart stutters in his chest, suddenly struck by the knowledge that Donghyuck trusted him with his body. That he wanted this as much as Mark did, staring back at him like he was as enraptured with Mark as Mark was with him.

Mark pulls out the oil by the bedside table with unsteady hands.

It had been placed there by a servant in case he ever wanted to use the lubricant while pleasuring himself, but Mark had never used it, especially not after Donghyuck had moved into his bed.

“Spread your legs,” Mark tells Donghyuck softly, and although Donghyuck flushes, he complies, Mark prepping Donghyuck slowly and exchanging gentle kisses as he works him open.

He’s tense at first, breath quick as Mark’s thumb brushes over his rim and slips into him, tight and hot around his fingers, and Mark uses all the willpower in his body not to rush the preparation, to remind himself to be gentle.

Donghyuck only relaxes once he gets used to the sensation, Mark peppering his skin with small kisses that has Donghyuck looking at him with dilated pupils.

“Is that your way of trying to make me relax?” he asks, voice strained.

“It’s working, isn’t it?”

Donghyuck snort dies on his lips when Mark adds a second and third finger, instead turning into a keen as Mark wraps his other hand around his cock. Donghyuck’s back arches, his naked chest meets his, and Mark knows that he won’t be able to last long, his cock so hard it was throbbing.

He withdraws his fingers from Donghyuck and pours oil onto himself, palming himself, and settles between Donghyuck’s scorching thighs.

The tension to Donghyuck’s frame returns.

“Are you really sure?” Mark asks once again, even though it physically pains him to stop himself when his cock rests against Donghyuck’s rim, knowing that he could be fucking him already.

“Yes.”

Mark inhales, bracing himself, and then enters him.

It’s tight and wet and warm, and Mark is dying, but he’d prepped Donghyuck well because he takes all of him fully, his eyes blown as they meet his gaze. Mark rests his forehead against Donghyuck’s, breathing in their shared air while Donghyuck gasps against his lips, his lips pink and plump as he takes his cock.

“Is this okay?” Mark whispers, struggling to keep his head clear, and although there is wrinkle between Donghyuck’s eyebrows, he nods.

“Yes,” he breathes, a sound stuck in his throat.

Mark kisses him again before he pulls out and thrusts in, the heat around his cock divine, made better by it being Donghyuck. Donghyuck gasps, unprepared for the action, but remains hard and leaking against Mark’s lower belly. It makes Mark breathe out a small breath of relief, the hand that isn’t propping himself up running up to touch Donghyuck’s hair, soft under his fingertips.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he breathes, withdrawing once more from Donghyuck to set up a soft pace as he thumbs Donghyuck’s thigh, rocking into him. It’s delicious friction, and although a part of him wants to close his eyes and indulge only on the way his cock is in heaven between Donghyuck’s thighs, he can’t bring himself to close his eyes on the Donghyuck beneath him, on the way his cock curves against his stomach, his body swallowing him like he was made for him.

So incredibly, breathtakingly pretty.

Donghyuck’s eyes are open, meeting his own, and in the end, he is the one who tugs Mark down into yet another kiss, the slide of Mark’s body on his own enough to drag another moan out of him. It leaves Mark gasping, having to spread Donghyuck’s legs further in order to make room for himself.

It’s a change in their position, and while Donghyuck tenses at the new slide, Mark makes sure to make the transition gentle.

“Lay on your side,” Mark instructs, pulling out and missing the tight heat around his cock immediately. The new position has Mark going deeper, leaving Donghyuck burying his face into the pillow, his eyelashes wet.

“I didn’t know it would be like this,” Donghyuck chokes, face screwed up, and for a moment Mark is worried that he’s hurt him, but then he adds a “faster, please,” that has Mark speeding up, the pressure in his lower stomach building. There is sweat beading on his forehead, the sound of skin meeting skin –the drag against his cock delicious— and Mark thinks he is burning up alive.

“We should have done this earlier,” he agrees, although he knows that they never would have, that Donghyuck would have never agreed to it. Donghyuck only nods brokenly against the pillow, hair a mess on top of his head like he would have spread his legs for Mark much sooner if he had only known how pleasurable it was.

Mark speeds up, his knees buckling, and tries to get Donghyuck closer, to go deeper. He wraps an arm around his midriff, accidentally brushing against Donghyuck’s cock, and watches as Donghyuck stiffens, his entire body drawing in on itself.

He comes, Mark’s name on his lips as he spills against the sheets and tightens around him.

It is enough to draw Mark’s own orgasm, white light flashing in front of his eyes as pleasure explodes throughout his body, rippling through his veins out into every nerve. It’s the most intense pleasure Mark has ever felt, and Mark is unable to think of anything else as he collapses against Donghyuck, burying his face against his neck.

Mark isn’t sure how long he spends just relishing in the aftershocks, pressing open-mouthed kisses against Donghyuck’s shoulder, but when Mark gathers enough strength to move, he fetches a wet cloth, dragging the rag against Donghyuck’s skin.

Donghyuck shudders, body still over-sensitive and flushed, and Mark probably doesn’t do a half-way decent job, but it’s an ungodly hour, and the sex had made him lethargic and relaxed. The sleepiness seems to be reflected in Donghyuck, because he gazes at him with drowsy eyes while Mark climbs back into bed, making a mental note to ask a servant to change the bedsheets in the morning.

Donghyuck snuggles into him, and Mark’s heart stutters in his chest, afraid of falling asleep only because he worries that he would wake up and find that he had dreamt it all. He closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of Donghyuck’s hair, and wishes upon every star in the night sky that he could get to keep this.

* * *

When they wake up in the morning, Mark calls for a servant to prepare them breakfast.

They forgo getting dressed and eating by the table, instead having their breakfast in bed, Mark watching as Donghyuck spreads butter on his bread, eating more than usual. He’d had an increased appetite since his wound got healed, and Mark was happy to see it, knowing that he had been too skinny when they’d first met.

“How are you feeling?”

Donghyuck takes a bite of his bread and sends him a dry look.

“I had sex, you know. I didn’t lose a battle.”

Mark is torn between being relieved and annoyed, a regular feeling when it came to Donghyuck. He watches Donghyuck’s eyes soften, his hand reaching out almost as if to ruffle his hair, and Mark leans back just in time.

“I’m fine,” Donghyuck continues. “Just a little sore.”

“Good.”

Mark leans in to kiss him softly, but when Donghyuck stiffens in surprise, Mark belatedly comes to the realization that he had never initiated a kiss before, that that had always been Donghyuck’s doing. For a second, he wonders if he has overstepped his boundaries even after they’d had sex, but then Donghyuck melts into it, one of his hands coming to grip his hair, and Mark feels a small stirring of arousal.

It’s broken by someone blowing a horn outside.

Mark pulls away just as a servant enters.

“Your presence is required in the castle, sir.”

Mark sighs, but knows that it’s a small wonder that he hadn’t gotten called upon even earlier, that he’d even managed to eat breakfast before his day began. He waves the soldier away, getting out of bed, and feels annoyed that he would most likely be spending the last days before they left for Behyun away from Donghyuck.

“I’ll see you later,” he tells Donghyuck who remains in bed, his lips pursed as he takes another bite of bread.

The day is spent coordinating attack plans and figuring out when and where the army would strike.

It would have to be in the early morning, when Behyun had just opened its port but still wasn’t at its full defense. Mark would be in charge of getting the gate to remain open until squadrons could storm the city and keep it open by sheer force, and after that he would head to the main fort and neutralize the rest of the resistance.

He is on his way to the armory to make sure that no swords or weapons have gone missing when he gets stopped by the master of the ravens.

He’s an old, eccentric man who was rarely seen away from his birds but who’d always been kind to Mark. Mark startles when he sees him, surprised to see him out and about, navigating the campsite on a mission.

He stretches a hand out to Mark, something gleaming in his grip.

“I think this is yours,” he says.

Mark furrows his brows, wondering if the man had mistaken him for someone else. He holds his hand out either way, watching as the master drops the medal Mark had told Donghyuck to use the day before in his hand.

It’s a little bit dirty from where it must have hit the ground, and Mark frowns, wondering how he had gotten a hold of it.

“How did you—”

“Your bed servant dropped it,” the man answers pleasantly. “A very nice young man, he is. Will you send him my regards?”

“I will,” Mark agrees, eyebrows furrowed as the man turns around and leaves, hobbling back to his ravens without saying another word. Mark tucks the medal away in his pockets, planning to ask Donghyuck how he had managed to run into the master of the ravens, but never gets a chance to, Mark only able to slip away from his duties late into the night.

Donghyuck is asleep when he enters the tent but stirs when Mark climbs into bed, shuffling closer and pressing sleepy kisses against Mark’s skin that threaten to make his heart jump out of his chest. There is a relaxation to his body that hadn’t been there the night before, and soon enough Donghyuck is huffing and puffing wetly into his ear as he reaches his climax, Mark hiking his thigh higher up his side, one of his hands gripping his ass as he thrusts into him.

Getting out of the bed the morning after is the most difficult thing Mark thinks he’s ever done, but he also knows that they would be finished with the last of the preparations before nightfall, that the battalion would be doing what it always did the night before setting off for battle: doing its best to relax.

Mark leaves for his tent right as the sun begins to set, and by then there are already gatherings of people in front of small bonfires drinking beer and grilling meat. Mark turns down the few invitations he gets, instead heading towards his tent, wanting to spend the evening with Donghyuck.

He finds Donghyuck sitting on a chair by table, gaze darting over the map in the middle, a strange expression on his face. He startles when Mark enters, fixing his gaze on him with an odd intensity, and Mark feels unexpectedly shy.

“Have you already had dinner?” Mark asks.

Donghyuck shakes his head.

“I’m not really hungry.”

He has just finished speaking when there is a large ruckus outside, a group of soldiers walking by. They’re rowdy, their shouts loud, and the noise makes Donghyuck snap out of whatever state he’d been in because he stands up.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” he asks. “I know a place in the castle where we could get some peace and quiet. Do you want to go?”

Mark furrows his brows but nods, not really caring where he spent the evening as long as he spent it with Donghyuck.

“I—sure.”

His confusion only deepens when Donghyuck leads them far into the castle and then down into a cellar.

It’s a part of the castle that Mark had never explored before, where they are surrounded by nothing other than heavy stone and brick. Judging by the old, rotten shelves lining the walls and the lone barrel of beer standing in a corner, Mark suspects that the massive room had once been used to store crops in the winter before a newer and larger storage facility had been built.

The cellar is almost eerily silent, nothing heard from the world above, and for a second, Mark can fool himself into believing that he and Donghyuck were the only people left in the city, in a different world from the one above ground.

In the cellar there were no other soldiers, nothing that reminded him that he would be marching off to battle in mere hours, and suddenly Mark understands why Donghyuck had wanted to leave the comfort of their tent.

“How did you find this place?” Mark asks, turning around and looking at Donghyuck, letting his fingers brush a damp shelf.

Donghyuck shrugs.

“I was trying to find out if there was some secret way out of the castle.”

Mark feels his stomach sink at Donghyuck’s casual mention of wanting to escape.

“I meant what I said a few days ago,” he repeats. “I promise I’ll get you out of here one day.”

He takes a small breath and then says what he’d been contemplating since they had first kissed underneath the stars.

“If you wait for me, I promise I’ll come back for you as soon as I can. I don’t know how, but we could build a life together, marry for real. If you’ll have me.”

It would mean abandoning the army, having to figure out an elaborate plan to fake his own death or living his entire life with a bounty on top of his head, but Donghyuck would be worth it. Mark didn’t know anything he wanted more.

Donghyuck stills.

Mark expects him to say something, to at least acknowledge his words, but instead he remains quiet for a long beat before he walks over and kisses him. Mark is surprised but doesn’t complain, melting into the kiss as Donghyuck cups his cheeks, running the pad of his fingers underneath his eyes, his touch uncharacteristically gentle.

“I’ll have you,” he says, voice quiet. “I—There is something I need to do. Can you wait here? I won’t be long.”

Mark frowns.

“Can’t you do it later?” he asks, not wanting him to leave. “We don’t have much time left.”

“I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

There is something strange about how he says it, but Mark finds himself powerless, nodding before he even knows what he has agreed to. Whatever Donghyuck needed to do, it was clearly important to him.

“Okay.”

Donghyuck kisses him once again, a deep kiss that leaves Mark breathless, and then darts off, leaving Mark alone.

Mark sits down on the cold ground, leaning his back against the equally cool walls, and settles down to wait.

He isn’t sure how long he has waited before he realizes that there was a chance that Donghyuck had relied on knowing where the medal was to prepare whatever he needed to do. He is also reminded that there was a risk of something happening to him with all the soldiers knowing that they might be dead in the coming few days, daring to stretch their luck further than they would have otherwise.

Mark tries to force the worry away, but when it doesn’t fade he eventually stands up, telling himself that Donghyuck was probably finished doing whatever he needed to do either way.

He climbs the stairs two at a time, pushing open the thick door leading down into the cellar, and despite being deep into the castle, the first thing he notices are the strange sounds coming from the campsite.

For a second, he thinks that the party is just being livelier than it had been when he left, but then he hears the familiar sounds of steel on steel, of shouts, and knows that something is terribly wrong.

Mark speeds up, darting out of the castle, and spots soldiers running around in disarray. There are bodies on the ground bleeding red into the earth, and Mark struggles to make sense of the scene in front of him, of what could have happened during the time he’d been down in the cellar.

It’s only a second later that he sees the Seolran soldiers.

They’re recognizable by their bright red armor, by the helmets falling over their faces, and Mark freezes, adrenaline shooting through his body. Before he knows what he is doing he is rushing towards his tent, pushing past the Kwayang soldiers running in the opposite direction. A few stop when they see him, their faces shifting from terror to hesitant relief, but Mark pays them no attention, unable to do anything until he knows that Donghyuck is safe.

Fear turns his blood to ice, only heightened by the knowledge that he could have been out of the castle ages ago if he hadn’t decided to wait for Donghyuck, that he could have kept him from leaving his side.

Mark only stops when he spots bronze hair right outside of his tent.

Donghyuck stands in the middle of the campsite completely unharmed, not even as much as a bruise on his cheek, and Mark staggers, relief making his knees wobbly, but then he sees the Seolran soldiers approaching Donghyuck.

They’re a trio, their decorated armor letting Mark know that they are generals, and Mark tenses, drawing energy into his body.

He is prepared to send a wall of earth their way when something strange happens.

Instead of drawing their swords, they fall to their knees in front of Donghyuck, and Mark belatedly comes to the realization that he recognizes one of them, the one with blue hair –the one who had been called Jeno at the pleasure house.

Mark stares, trying and failing to comprehend the scene in front of him, why there isn’t a hint of confusion on Donghyuck’s face, why the soldiers were bowing when they should have been hurting him, how they had even managed to infiltrate their camp in the first place.

Mark stares and stares and stares, and almost if he notices that he’s being watched Donghyuck turns his head and meets his gaze. He freezes, paling, but then sets his jaw, his expression shuttering.

Mark frowns, taking a step towards him when there is a flurry of movement in his peripheral vision, a group of Seolran soldiers rushing past him, and then there is a sharp pain in the back of his head.

The last thing he sees before the world goes dark around him is fire dancing from Donghyuck’s hands as the entire campsite goes up in flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EEEEEEEEEE SOME OF YOU WERE RIGHT!!!
> 
> if you liked the chapter please let me know! ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ kudos and always comments make my day! ;;


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